


No Rest For The Living

by Yalu



Series: spn_verse challenges [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Community: love bingo, Episode: s03e16 No Rest for the Wicked, Families of Choice, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Season Three, post-3x16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yalu/pseuds/Yalu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <br/>
  <i>"Sam," Bobby says three days later, "don't you think it's time we bury Dean?"</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Post 3x16. Warning for some gory descriptions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Rest For The Living

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [spn_verse](http://spn-verse.livejournal.com/profile) Challenge #2 – reacting to a season finale – and for [love_bingo](http://love-bingo.livejournal.com) Round Three. Prompt: Loss (wild square).
> 
> Thanks to Trojie for beta reading.

Dean's liver falls out when they move him.

Sam throws up, twisting away and falling to his knees beside a wall. Bobby feels himself go clammy and shaky and nearly does the same, but someone's got to hold it together here so he takes a deep breath and tells Sam to _help get the tablecloth, damnit_ even though his heart is breaking. The makeshift shroud won't last long – red blossoms immediately, warm and sticky and _God_ , it's Karen all over again, in pieces on the floor – but it keeps Dean together.

Ruby– Lilith is gone. Her demons too; there's no one outside as they carry Dean across the grass. The sprinkling holy water is like a sick baptism, or rice at the wedding Bobby's always secretly hoped his boys would get. Sam's a trembling pallbearer, sucking in great ragged breaths while tears and snot roll down his face. Bobby's chest feels more torn up than Dean's.

They get Dean into the car, get out of there, get to some abandoned shack where Sam pulls out John's field surgeon's kit and starts methodically stitching his brother together. He's going quiet, 'cept for a few rough sniffles, and the longer they stand there on either side of the table, the more quiet and still he gets, until he's barely moving anything but arms and steady fingers - _stitch, stitch, stitch_.

Then he doesn't move at all.

"Sam," Bobby says three days later, "don't you think it's time we bury Dean?"

 _No._ Because to hunters, "bury" means "burn", and no doubt Sam's got the same stupid ideas swirling around his head that Dean did. Bobby sweeps up the whisky bottles and leaves him be.

When the stench of dried blood and rot gets too much Bobby carries Dean away while Sam's sleeping. He's nearly killed a minute later when that giant of a boy comes tearing out of the shack with madness in his eyes. If he hadn't already had the thin pine box waiting Bobby honestly doesn't know what would have happened.

It scares him. Sam scares him. When Sam was dead Dean just sat there too, staring and lost, but he sobbed and growled and _moved_. Sam's been wearing stillness like armour, getting harder and harder and colder every minute, turning into something...

Bobby's seen monsters. Lots of 'em. This is something else.

They bury Dean in the shallowest grave possible that'll still keep dogs from sniffing him out, and Sam puts it right near a road so Dean won't be lost when he gets back. Bobby's not sure what he's planning, only that the crossroads demons aren't biting – Sam's already tried at least twice, left the cut-up frames of his state police and FBI badges in the car – but whatever he's thinking can't be good. He's not talking. Dean at least talked; argued and yelled, sure, but it was something. Sam only stops ignoring him long enough to bark demands.

Then he disappears.

Bobby calls. He calls every number John or Dean ever left, then tries Ellen and Tamara and everyone else he can find. Nothing. Ellen helps him search and then stake out every spot in the country they think Sam's likely to go, but he never turns up. Bobby up wakes one morning to find he's drunk through his entire liquor supply.

There's a picture of him and the boys sitting on the desk beside him. It's from years ago, when John would still drop them off in the summer when school was out and hunts were too dangerous. They'd play baseball and Dean would always leap and crow about his hits and catches with a big grin on his face while Sam stood there quietly with a mitt on one hand and the meanest curveball ever ready to come out of the other. He'd outthrow both of them, beat the pants off his big brother, and hold no grudges when Dean laughed it off. Playing together meant that much to him.

This was taken the day Sam threw one curveball that left his brother with a bruised hand and Dean knocked another clear out of the park. Bobby remembers being so proud of them he almost turned to the house to grin at Karen and said, _Did you see what our boys did?_

Now he's lost both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> The description of Sam as a monster was inspired by Trojie's amazing little fic [Wards](http://archiveofourown.org/works/691042). READ IT.


End file.
